open | a merry meri mingle

[sterngaze]

Who: Meridians new & old!
What: Cookout mingle
Where: Alenroux
When: Mid-March, after Vander's rescue
Warnings: Potentially alcohol consumption and violence, for the rowdy

After the initiation of Springstar's invasion plans for Alenroux, tensions among the Meridian-aligned might be a bit strained. The move comes as a surprise even for many of the shard-bearers within the faction itself, to say nothing of those whose livelihoods depend on the farms here. It's not yet clear what Highstorm's response will be, but one will certainly be coming; when that happens, someone is going to come out on the bottom, and their blood will be at least partially on Meridian's hands.

At times like this, the importance of maintaining morale can't be understated. A call goes out to the newest generation of those harmonized with Meridian's light: it's time to have a party!

PREPARATION:

Those who can are invited to help with the set-up. There are drinks to procure, foodstuffs to acquire and prepare, canopies to erect for shade, entertainments to organize. It's not meant to be a grand affair — the gathering is private, intended to foster camaraderie among the shard-bearers after long days and nights of work — but it will be a comfortable one, with edibles and enjoyments to offer to those taking solace in the company of their fellows.

It takes one of Alenroux's long days to make all the necessary arrangements — and then, late the following morning, after the night's monsters have slunk back into the woods, things are made ready. All that's left is for the guests to arrive.

THE EVENT:

Spring is still in the midst of taking hold over Alenroux, so a tall bonfire at the centre of the gathering place offers a toasty place to linger and chat throughout the day. Hot drinks and a variety of fire-roasted foods are on offer, including an entire deer helpfully supplied and prepared by Liem. Logs and stumps provide simple seating, and nearby canopies provide shade around the tables of food and drink. A little further away, sturdy tents provide more private gathering places for those wishing for a break from the hubbub.

And there will be hubbub. To break the ice between unfamiliar faces, a variety of contests have been set up over the course of the gathering. These range from simple arm-wrestling competitions, to three-legged races, to friendly sparring matches for those so-inclined. Gathered Meris are encouraged to spectate and bet amongst themselves on contest outcomes — and better yet, to volunteer to participate themselves during the next round.

For those who have already had a chance to relax and let off some steam, the gathering is a perfect opportunity to get to know one's fellow sect-mates a little better, and to reaffirm why Meridian called to them in the first place. Those gathered are encouraged to take the chance to tell a few tales about the place they came from, and to share the visions inside their Sunbeam with those from other worlds. A favourite place, a cherished person, an unkept promise, even an old enemy: all could be worth revisiting for a moment with new comrades in arms.

Comments

HAYAME (JINBA) ➳ ICONOCLAST

[warmare]

01 ↣ THE HUNTRESS ↣ 鹿はどうぞ

[Hayame didn't necessarily approve of this. Even if it were during the day, allowing this much of their forces to relax and cavort instead of keep watch or remain vigilant... She stands on the edges of the party with a sour look on her face. A couple members of the military's archery unit greet her as they creep past towards the food or the games, but she is curt and short with them. Fine, go frolic like a fool for all she cares!.

Eventually, she just leaves. Maybe she got fed up with things? But later on... she's back, actually?, with a deer slung over her withers. With nary a "hello" or an "excuse the blood" she finds a spot at the forest's perimeter near the fire pit (and the quickly vanishing deer meat on the spit there, which people are enjoying), hangs her kill... and silently sets about dressing it, the movements of her knife precise and quick.

Give her a few minutes, there will be more food on the fire.

Or, you know, tell her to take that mess even farther away. Whatever.]

02 ↣ THE WRESTLER ↣ 自信満々

[With the day wearing on... Hayame seems to have at least found some sort of team spirit. Or perhaps she's just been worn down until she agreed to take place in the arm wrestling competition. A simian woman and a six-armed man have appointed themselves as cheerleaders, much to her chagrin, and Hayame... is so-far undefeated at the "arena" made of a few stump chairs dragged up to a flattish rock. (Not that Hayame needs the chair- her equine half is sprawled half on her belly to get her down to the right level for her opponents.)

As one of her archery students flexes their biceps and taunts the crowd with a "Step right up and taste defeat at the hands of a jiiiiinnnnbbbbaaaaaa"... Hayame makes a face that conveys a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. But if someone takes them up on the invitation...]

- Are you sure?

[She has very well-defined muscles in her arms and shoulders, visible in her sleeveless robe as she wipes her hand with a cloth to clean her last opponent off her skin.]

03 ↣ THE THINKER ↣ 見せない世界

[Others are sharing the images of their worlds through their iliachtida, but Hayame... is not. Some have curiously asked her, but she has rebuffed them. There is a golden chain that disappears into her clothing, but the bead is nowhere in sight. Later, though, once she has taken herself to the half-privacy of one of the open tents, she pulls the sunbeam bead from the tight binding around her breasts and looks at it. Really looks at it.

If anyone enters the tent, Hayame can be found looking at the bead in her palm, her consciousness divided between reality and the vision of her own world. She is just distracted enough... that she doesn't quite notice her visitor yet.]

04 ↣ WILDCARD ↣ 鬼札

[Hit me up on stormcoming or Discord chat ping if you'd prefer a custom starter/want to discuss a specific thread! ❤️ Hayame will be hanging around the mingle but largely wallflowering and judging unless dragged in.]

Byleth | Advocate

[fishfearme]

❖ I. The Preparation.

[Once realising a gathering was being arranged, Byleth was surprisingly gungho about the entire affair. If anything it made him feel nostalgic for when Jeralt's mercenaries would also do these type of gatherings after a long, gruelling campaign, exchanging tales, food and drinks, and eventually culminating in drunken singing and high spirits. Even Byleth, introverted and socially awkward as he was, enjoyed the atmosphere of such things.

So, Byleth assisted in procuring the most important aspect of any morale-boosting gathering: the booze. He can be spotted hefting about wooden kegs into the gathering area, setting them down in a centralised location for when the party starts. Where did he get all this alcohol from? Don't worry about it. How did he carry it all? By many back and forth journeys...

Maybe you can help him out with the keg carrying, or maybe you'll come across him once he was done, sitting on one of the kegs and enjoying the fruit of his labour with a sneaky early drink before the gathering properly starts.]

❖ II. The Event.

[Byleth mostly spent his time lurking - not quite wallflowering, but not exactly engaging in the majority of the contests and games set up. If anything, he seemed content to spectate, soaking up the ambient atmosphere like a parched flower subsisting on chill vibes alone. Unsurprisingly, he spent most of his time near the refreshments, either knocking back a drink or partaking in the offered food.

If you don't want to interrupt him there, however, he does begin to get a little more social as the day wears on (thanks to the alcohol). Inspired by the blind date from the masquerade, Byleth will approach those that seemed to loiter on the edges of the gathering, a plate of refreshments in hand, and try to break the ice with a simple:] Food?

[Listen, with the amount of alcohol in his blood it's a miracle he's not dropping the plate here.]

❖ III. The Sunbeam.

[While inebriated, however, Byleth was still cautious when it came to this one thing. As Meridians gathered to exchange stories of their homeland, or of their precious people (or detested people), showing off their Sunbeams, Byleth would be entirely absent from it.

He'd be found on the very far fringes of the gathering, his back to it, rolling his Sunbeam between his gloved fingers but keeping it tucked close to his chest. As the days went by, his homesickness grew and this intense, ill-defined emotion sat heavier in his chest, crushing his unbeating heart.

It was obvious he was a million miles away - not due to using the Sunbeam, but lost in his own thoughts - his expression faintly downcast. The morale-boosting intention of the Sunbeam talk clearly had the opposite effect on him...]

❖ IV. Wildcard!

[Feel free to toss a random scenario at me and I'll roll with it - like goading him into an arm wrestle or a friendly spar. Alternatively hit me up at kivaember or discord to hammer out a thread/plot]

wildcard/huntress-ish

[bakedapple]

[ Serendipity is a funny thing. Whether you believe in it specifically or call it something else — fate, coincidence, luck — probably depends on the event you're labeling as such, and how you feel about it. And in this case, it might just end up feeling more like misfortune than felix culpa.

Link himself had slinked away from the party, for similar reasons and motivations as Hayame. He isn't very good with... that. Social gatherings. He doesn't know what to say. It's so much easier when he's speaking to others, meeting them, with a purpose in mind. But just... mingling? It's odd. Did he do that before? Was he ever good at it? He didn't forget other skills during his time in stasis. No, he's... probably never been good at that sort of thing.

But hunting, providing, he can do that. In a way, it would be his method of greeting everyone, and showing his worth as an ally, and maybe getting across his well-wishes to his new companions in a way he can't with words. Perched in a tree, he has an arrow notched and aimed at a full-grown doe in the clearing below him. And then... it falls to the ground, victim to an arrow that isn't his. Struck by confusion, he does not move or say anything. And then, something even farther beyond the realm of expectation happens right before his eyes. A creature, half-man and half-horse, clops across the clearing with bow in hand. He watches silently, in awe, as it bows down with outstretched arms and heaves the felled animal up from the grass.

They say this place that Highstorm and Springstar are fighting over is infested with monsters. While this one obviously isn't a Lynel, the resemblance is unmistakable.

He waits for the creature to turn its back to him. As it starts to walk away, he pulls back on the bowstring, aims carefully, and fires an arrow at its right hind leg. ]

03

[sterngaze]

[Although Liem has been busy for the last several days, helping with the Alenroux occupation, participating in the investigation of Aetós's hideout and organizing this gathering for the sake of his fellows, on the day of the party itself, he looks livelier than he has for most of his time in Kenos, never mind compared to his condition when they'd first begun their invasion. His eyes are a little overbright with Discord, but the shadows under them have all but disappeared, and some of the pallor seems to have receded from his skin. As he welcomes people to the gathering, cloaked as he often is in his mantle of shadow, his manner is cordial and unburdened. Perhaps a little too cordial, for those familiar with his usual cool distance, but if he is putting in a little extra effort to play host, it is only reasonable. The point of this party is to encourage people to relax.

Also rather atypical is the short, neatly groomed beard he seems to have grown in the past week or so. (This too is a symptom of his Discord — or at least, a result of his Discord in conjunction with how little time he has had for himself of late.)

He finds Hayame when he ducks into a nearby tent, in search of a moment's privacy in which to enjoy some quiet. He isn't expecting to find another person within — but when he sees Hayame, he does not immediately retreat to seek a less-occupied tent. If he is in search of quiet, he doesn't expect that Hayame, who has never been free with words, will pose much of an obstacle.

It is only as he allows the tent flap to fall closed behind him and takes his first step further into the space that he notices the focus of her attention.]

02

[hauntedking]

I'll try.

[ Dimitri seems confident enough. Although perhaps he's cheating a little because heh as a crest... ]

And if I taste defeat, it's to a worthy opponent. Besides... it seems fun, doesn't it?

[ He knows he and Hayame have butted heads (to put it politely) before, but he doesn't see any reason to let that interfere today. This is supposed to be about coming together as a group, isn't it? ]

3

[leicesters]

[Claude's of a similar mind to Hayame with regards to the gathering. He's finding it harder than usual to feign good cheer, between the invasion here in Alenroux and the events down in the Zoo, and he keeps turning everything that has happened in that brief window of time over in his mind. Was taking Manon to neutral ground the right decision? What about Adelfoúla and letting her lead them right down to her destruction?

In Fódlan things tended to spiral wildly outside of his control, but he was able to react to events because he had his army, and he had better knowledge of the land he was in. He had Byleth. As for Almyra, the worst he had to worry about was courtly intrigue, but that was predictable, a manageable danger. Here, though, the more he tries to influence anything to go the way he wants it to...

He still has his blade at his hip and his bow and quiver are stashed nearby; even if this is supposed to be a relaxed gathering, he doesn't feel it, and would sooner be ready for anything than caught off guard out here. Eventually, he ducks into one of the tents to have some time with his thoughts, and he spots a certain someone who had the same idea already. It takes him a moment to realise what she's looking at, and he lingers at the mouth of the tent, wondering if he's intruding.]

Hayame...?

[warmare]

[Hayame is alone with her thoughts for a moment longer, even past when she ceases to be actually alone. In the cradle of her rough hands, which have never known how to be gentle, she tries to hold the sunbeam like it is precious- because it is. She does not often let herself channel Meridian power through it and look, because... because she does not deserve it, because she should not let her thoughts linger on it, but...

Matsukaze is there. The yearlings she'd been teaching archery were there. If she thought about him, the landscape would change, and her brother was there...

But eventually she notices. On instinct, she immediately shields the jewel from sight with a protective cup of her fingers, lips already twisting into an automatic snarl until she realizes it's-]

... Liem.

[Her hackles slowly lower, her fingers remain cupped but less defensive over her sunbeam bead. She had seen him only recently in the Below, but even still... She tries to think of something to say that isn't a demand to be left alone.]

It is yet strange, to see that hair upon your face.

[warmare]

[Hayame's expression... decidedly does not look like she finds this fun. In fact, it's very put upon. But that might be because her subordinates... are having all the fun for her. The simian woman fairly backflips into view over Hayame's withers, posing with arms crossed and a you'll taste defeat alright, the six-armed man nodding sagely with a to a worthy opponent indeed...

And their instructor's brow twitches.]

Excuse them.

[They might be going to start collecting gambling bets on this match from the people around watching.]

Sit. You look strong for a human.

[It's been tough trying not to break arms.]

dextera • exalt

[passio]

I. preparations

[ dextera has been on top of things in terms of preparing alenroux. as a tier 2 member of the faction, he was given authority, and he took to it well—which is why it’s perhaps surprising for anyone who has only seen him standing straight and tall and guiding soldiers to now be meek and a little… in the way, honestly, compared to how effective everyone else is at setting up.

he quietly excuses himself and decides instead to help the only way he knows how: digging in the dirt at the edge of the camp. it’s not even clear what he’s looking for, if anything, but every now and then he looks longingly a bit further in the woods. maybe you’d like to go on an adventure with him?

or maybe you just want to watch this grown man now carrying a gun the size of his torso play in the mud, whatever. that’s fine too. ]

II.

[ he is not sparring.

the other things do, however, catch his interest. most of these party games he’s never participated in and he takes a little while to observe and understand exactly what they’re doing, but he’s quietly enthused at the prospect of playing along.

for arm-wrestling, he takes a seat and rolls up his sleeve. his hands are gross, sorry, covered in god-knows-what, and even he seems to realize it because he quickly wipes his palm off on his shirt. look, it’s fine.

for the three-legged race, this is something he seems to really want to try, but his lack of voice means it’s a bit harder to speak up and find a partner. communion isn’t mean to be used for something like this, after all, in a group where no one can immediately see the source of it—so, regardless of whether or not he knows you, he places his hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

you wouldn’t disappoint this sad face, would you? ]

III. sunbeam sharing

[ dextera has been enjoying hearing about everyone’s worlds. those who are brave enough to share, he takes their memories like his own—though not without a bit of jealousy. for the most part, he enjoys hearing what everyone else is fighting for.

when it comes to him, whether someone asks him or the gaze just naturally falls on him, he hesitates. ]

…

[ the iliachtida is warm in his hand, glinting in the light of the fire. there are details he doesn’t want to share, things he profoundly doesn’t want anyone to know, but he also doesn’t want to keep secrets.

for those who care to listen, gathered around the bonfire, dextera makes a quiet impression with communion. he’s relaying the image he sees in the bead, of a young woman with short red hair and a green dress, floating—literally floating—above a pool of green water, endlessly in circles.

“stupid,” she mumbles to herself, “stupid— augh! idiot! it’s not like I even want to see him!”

dextera flushes red and ends the image there, as his actual memories of her get mixed into the gaze into the sunbeam. ]

…she isn’t always that mean.

IV. wildcard!

( does your character need a meri peptalk? does someone need to tell dextera to take a shower? if there’s anything else you wanna do, just lmk and we can work something out! )

[hauntedking]

No, no, it's quite alright. Their enthusiasm is... infectious.

[ He laughs and strips out of his coat and down to his shirtsleeves. He's actually got some impressive strength under there. The gambling he will politely ignore, for all of that. He settles down and starts to situate himself, getting a little comfortable. ]

I have no small measure of strength. Although arm-wrestling isn't something I do often...

[warmare]

[Hayame hasn't let go of her weapons either... though she had conceded to beginning to use magical ones that were more easily transportable and concealable. It was difficult to carry a bow and naginata that both were about six feet long, even though she totally would have if that were her only option in this place. Even though this event had been billed as a party, something for relaxation, her quiver is still on her belt, alongside what looks to be a truncated spear haft and a bow grip.

But in her hands is her sunbeam bead, cradled in fingers that are calloused and used to hurting, training, killing more than they are at protecting something precious like the only vision she has left of her world. Others are sharing their worlds outside, with each other, but she... How is she supposed to show strangers the sight of the few people she'd ever cared about, the people she had to return to in order to leave?

Instinctively, Hayame curls to hide the iliachtida from sight when she notices someone else has entered the tent, but... the second after, it registers who the intruder is. She does not... stop hiding it, but. Her posture relaxes slightly from the more on guard reaction. But the only thing she can think to say at first is-]

... Claude.

[Pointless-]

Am I needed outside?

[warmare]

[She had once been asked if she felt strange about hunting deer, as if she should feel kindship with an animal simply because they both had four legs. That person had regretted very quickly asking that question, because Hayame was not just a skilled huntress- she was also a proud woman inclined to violence. That inclination, however, does not prepare her for changing from the hunter to the hunted so suddenly. Not on this day, not in the day.

It isn't skill that prevents her from being shot. It is pure luck that the deer on her back shifts and she has to move to the side to prevent it slipping, intending to secure it more firmly over her withers...

And then an arrow slams into the dirt near her fetlock.

In an instant, she is transformed. The six foot long bow in her hand comes up to bear, an arrow of her own is ripped from the quiver, and in the space of seconds it is fitted to the bowstring, aimed in the direction the offending arrow had come from, and shot. While it's still in the air, her prey is dumped back to the ground with a thump... and Hayame springs into flight, dodging into the protection of the brush and trees to gain time to find her attacker.]

[sterngaze]

[He's considering saying something, or maybe just turning around and slipping back out to give her her privacy when Hayame lifts her head to snarl towards the tent's entrance. The reaction doesn't surprise him. Although others in Meridian have been encouraged to share glimpses of their own worlds, Liem was never under the illusion that Hayame might share something that precious so publicly.

He meets her stare through the dark lenses of his sunglasses — a barrier that is less important now that he can use magic to shield himself from the sun, but one that he nevertheless maintains for appearance's sake. At her comment about his beard, Liem blinks. But the signal to keep the focus of any conversation away from herself is clear enough.]

I'm not used to it either.

[He lifts a hand, absently, to rub at the greying hair on his jaw. Even now, while the vitality Gray lent him is still easing the harsher lines and shadows of his face, the beard makes him look considerably older. But he supposes that's a little more honest, if anything.]

I just don't have the time to keep it shorn. If I shave at dawn, the stubble is back by mid-morning. And I'm too busy to be loitering in front of a mirror every few hours to attend it.

[Easier just to trim it, to keep it from getting wild. His hair is a bit more of a lost cause; he can't trim it himself, and although he makes an effort to keep it combed back from his face, in the week or so since he was last at a barber it's become more than a little fluffy.]

[bakedapple]

[ At first, Link can't tell whether he hit it or not. It seems to flinch, dropping its kill. His attention is further wretched away by the arrow that comes whizzing into the tree he's hiding in, fired from that massive longbow. The arrow thunks into the trunk of the tree, but Link is immediately impressed at the speed with which it shot back — and so accurately, too, as it dashes away in a panic.

He does not fire back. The woods are silent. Squinting, Link finally spots the fletching of his fired arrow, peeking upright through the grass. It was a miss, then... Damn. It knows someone is here now. A wasted advantage.

For a second, he wonders whether he should fall back. He could probably slink away, especially if it decides to flee or focus on hiding, and then wait it out like he would with any other prey until it decides the coast is clear and lets its guard down again. It's unlikely to abandon that deer, he thinks to himself.

One thing he has to do is leave the spot he's in now. It knows where he is. After yanking the creature's arrow from the tree and tucking it into his own quiver, he starts to climb around the other side of its branches, away from the direction it ran in, so he can more safely climb down in the veil of its thick leaves. His movement is quiet, but not silent, as he does not want to give the creature too much time to evaluate the situation. ]

link, savant

[bakedapple]

I. preparation (wildcardish)

[ While training and patrolling around one of the Alenroux outposts, Link heard word of the "cookout" to be held for Shard-Bearers both new and old and decided it would be wise to go, even if these kind of events are not normally his thing. Fast-forward through a day's work of set-up, food prep, and making a fool of himself, and Link is as tired and ready for rest as Alenroux's slow sun seems to be, as it begins to leisurely dip below the horizon.

They say that monsters come out at night in this place. Real ones, not people shaped differently from the people he's used to seeing. This strikes Link as a bit concerning — won't all the work they did to prepare for the party the next day be at risk of meddling from these monsters? Maybe their location is too close to one of the outposts, too well-protected by the patrols of the Springstar soldiers, but he's concerned all the same.

So he decides to stand guard. He doesn't mind sleeping outside — at this point, it feels more like home than any room in a building would. As the twilight fades, Link lingers around the cookout area, busying himself quietly with miscellaneous tasks. Even in the dark, you can hear him chopping wood from a good distance away. Later, a small campfire crackles in the same wide fire pit that will house the bonfire tomorrow. Those who might be lingering in the area will surely come across Link at some point, even late at night, where he keeps his back to his small fire, watching over the wild surrounding him. ]

II. cookout

[ The sun rises on a beautiful day, sunny and clear, but cooled by the springtime air. Link managed to get a few hours of sleep sprinkled through his dutiful watch, either by accident or with the help of a new acquaintance. After a quick bath in a nearby stream and a fire-baked apple for breakfast, he is ready for the festivities — and, hopefully, the fun it will bring! The last week has been hard on him. Much harder than he even realizes. ]

(A: contests.) [ The ice breaker contests draw his attention at first, but he does not attempt any until several people have... well, broken the ice, putting themselves out there to get some games started. Perhaps you notice the young man lingering at the edge of the crowd, or maybe it's after he decides to go for it on his own, but you find yourself being partnered up with him for the three-legged race.

Link does not understand this game at first, having no memory of playing it or even hearing about it before. Nevertheless, it's has he's following the judge's instructions and starting to tie the rope around your ankles that he stops and asks: ] Wait... how does this game work, exactly?

(B: your tales.) [ Into the afternoon, the air is filled with the irresistible smell of cooked meat and baked goods. The forums hosted in Highstorm and Springstar, and their accompanying feasts, were only a few days ago, but Link is already ready to stuff himself into a food coma. When he finally retires to one of the tents, he's carrying an absolutely enormous slice of meat pie with him. If it weren't for the conspicuous nature of his portion and choice of food, you might not even notice him as he settles down to listen in on the stories being shared of other worlds not his own. What's yours? ]

(C: my tale.) [ At a certain point, the conversation makes its way to Link. At first, he does not realize why his conversation partner(s) are staring at him, but the glances towards the iliachtida dangling from a cord tied around his neck clues him in. Quietly, he sets down what remains of his food and unwinds the core from his neck.

He's not so sure about this. He hasn't actually gazed into his own sunbeam yet. He'd simply accepted it for what it was purported to be — when everyone says it is what it is, why question it further? What he's seen here today is, at least, as much proof as anyone else would need, but... the thought of looking into his own bead and sharing what's hidden within it... it births a subtle but insidious sense of mild anxiety in him. ]

Well, then... what do you want to know? [ he pauses, seeming to realize that this isn't a question anyone will be able to helpfully answer. ] ...I should say... I don't know my world as well as you might expect someone to.

[warmare]

You look like an aging barbarian.

[… Blunt??? But, perhaps, that is not a surprise either. Her own culture much preferred a clean shaven face, relegating the image of a bearded man for depicting the indigenous people considered different and lesser than the Emperor’s court. The pale men from across the sea, too, had great bushy beards, she had heard. It is strange, and she simply says so.

Perhaps if it had appeared gradually, an obvious choice of a man changing his style…

But it hadn’t. And seeing as she wasn’t so quick to forget what had happened to her own hair when she was suffering the effects of Discord her first few months in Kenos…]

You have time to host whatever this is, but not to tend to yourself?

[She doesn’t mean shaving.

She hasn’t put her sunbeam bead away, merely tightened the curl of her fingers upon it.]

02

[fishfearme]

[At a glance, Byleth seemed almost waifish compared to Hayame - especially without his cloak bulking out his otherwise slim shoulders - but his muscles were well-toned, and he had a slight unfair advantage due to his bizarre biology: being a dragon-human-homunculus hybrid meant his physical strength was slightly above average for a human, and his slim frame was denser than any human's ought to be.

Not to say he was inhumanely strong, though. He admitted that his talents lay more in his agility and precision, rather than brute strength... so why was he stepping up to the figurative plate to arm wrestle a woman who might be able to fold him like a pretzel with little to no effort?

He was intrigued. He had witnessed these type of competitions often in his world, but no one had ever dared to invite the 'Ashen Demon' into a friendly arm wrestle. Here, the shadow that title carried didn't mark him... also he had drank quite a bit, which had placed him into a curious and agreeable mood.]

Yes. I wish to gauge my upper body strength against yours.

[Um, weird way to put it, Byleth. He sat down across from her, and pinched the tip of his gloved finger.]

Should I remove my gloves for this? Admittedly, it's the first time I've arm wrestled, so I'm ignorant of its etiquette.

[leicesters]

Nah, everything's fine, so you can take as long as you need.

[She hasn't shooed him away immediately, so he takes that as an invitation to enter the tent properly, moving to take a seat.]

Was I interrupting something? You don't need to stop on my account. [Better to pretend he didn't get a glimpse of what she was looking at and play dumb than to put her on the defensive, he thinks.]

C

[leicesters]

[Claude's a little cagey about talking about his own world -- worse if Byleth or Dimitri happen to be in earshot -- but he's happy to grill other people about theirs. So when it's Link's turn, he blinks, a little surprised. Who wouldn't know their own world well? Nonetheless, he's not deterred, leaning forward in his seat with a smile on his face.]

Hey, knowing everything about an entire world is a big ask. But you still knew a little corner of it, right? You could start by talking about where you're from.

[Even the most sheltered person in the world has to have some kind of frame of reference to draw on, he thinks.]

[sterngaze]

[Even as familiar as Liem has become with Hayame's bluntness, her remark still has him blinking for a brief, startled moment. Although the wearing of a beard has become slightly less prestigious in Taldor than it had been when he was a boy, during the period when beards were a symbol of status worn only by nobility, he still wouldn't have thought to associate a modest beard like his with the tall, pale barbarians of the north. The personal guard of the late Grand Prince had been composed of such northerners, with their fair hair and broad shoulders. Their beards had been much more impressive than this.

He does not think the statement is meant as an insult — but it is clearly not a compliment.]

Gatherings like this are important, [he points out.] To warm the new and the inconstant to our cause. Not everyone here feels that they must be, Hayame. Some are swayed by the people of each sect just as much as by their respective promises.

[There are those who would shrink from the possibility of returning to their own worlds if the path there necessitated harming innocents — and people who aren't yet willing to accept that both paths are already muddied with blood. They might drift to Zenith because of the Matron's gentle demeanour, if they are not persuaded to bond with their current fellows.

And in any case, the matter of his Discord is not as easy to address as planning a simple party.]

Besides… [A small, restless frown creases his brow. He admits this reluctantly, and only because Hayame has been so honest with him in the past.] It is strange to seek relief of that kind. It feels shameful.

diluc ragnvindr | stargazer

[fireballer]

i. chef ragnvindr

[diluc is new to meridian, fresh off a harmonization, when he hears about the cookout. normally, he wouldn't be caught dead attending a social event where his presence isn't required and his wine wares aren't needed. but he supposes he needs to make some connections, and this is the perfect place to do just that. unfortunately.

he has somehow found himself at a grill roasting steaks. which is perfect because this is exactly his specialty. he cooks them to perfection - medium rare, seasoned, and garnished elegantly - though he is open to customization if requested. if you come up with a plate, he'll smack a steak down onto it while saying:] Please enjoy it, and let me know if it isn't up to your standard.

[otherwise, he looks a little silly at the grill, just expression deadpan as he flips the steaks and seasons them before meticulously garnishing them. this is not what he was planning on doing at the cookout, but now that he's tasked with this, he's not going to let anyone down. besides, what better way to make connections than through the stomach, right?]

ii. bartender ragnvindr

[he has similarly also somehow found himself at the drink table. rather than finding himself being tasked to serving the drinks, his bartender intuition takes over and he simply forces his way to serving the drinks. he ties his hair up higher and rolls up his sleeves to get into the right headspace.

one will find that his intuition for mixing drinks is quite superb - the flavors complex, and yet each one distinct without being overpowering. if asked for a specific drink, he will mix it as requested. but if someone asks to be surprised, he will mix up something unique and interesting, offering the cup with a nod.] Will that be all?

[feel free to hit up the handsome bartender at the cookout drinks table lmao. our very own coffee shop au.]

iii. relaxed ragnvindr

[after probably being shooed away from the grill and the drinks table because the intent probably wasn't for any meridians to actually do work and to just enjoy and have a good time, diluc wanders and ends up at the bonfire. rather than sitting, he stands near the flame, it's heat comforting rather than uncomfortable due to his pyro affinity. his purpose here was to make connections but he's already exhausted. this wasn't like bartending back in mondstadt, where he knew most of the patrons who walked in. this is a den of people he does not know, and he's not like kaeya where he can make small talk with ease.

but around him he hears snippets of conversation, people talking about their homes, things they loved to do, their loved ones. and that sparks warmth in his cold, dead soul. this is what he's fighting for. this is why he joined meridian in the first place. to fight for what everyone's lost. to fight for the people who weren't given a second chance.

he pulls out his bead, the whirling blades of mondstadt and the refreshing breeze coming to mind instantly.

after his time at the bonfire, he'll wander over to where people are playing various games, ever observing from the sidelines.]

[ooc | pls feel free to warp these prompts to suit your response as well! the woes of a nontalkative character lmao...]

mamoru hijikata / iconoclast

[prizeneck]

General

[Someone has been busy.

Despite Mamoru not being entirely convinced about this takeover, it doesn't change that he fits into the scene like a piece of a puzzle. Eventually, he's seen talking to commanders and those in the roles of authority, providing insights, small inputs that aim for efficiency and productivity. Some of the forces start stopping him while he walks around, or approach him when he's settled somewhere or eating, asking about how to take care of issues in their perimeter, how strike teams should be organized and rotated, and what to do if there's an eventual ambush or attack. In fact, it's here, and not in Highstorm, Springstar, or even Kowloon, that you may find Mamoru most at ease, his stance watchful and considerate of the people in the location, even if he does tend to keep to himself for the most part.

You may find him in the midst of it, maybe nudging someone's stance into correction when they are practicing how to stand after an attack with a sword or even a glaive (a simple touch to the middle of the shoulder blades, a tap with his foot on that person's heel is enough), or listening in to the strategic motions and operations of those who are a bit more invested in this.

Or maybe you find him outside of the walls, checking out the surroundings, keeping monsters at bay, maybe even encountering someone not from his own faction. Most of all, you find him noting and muttering something after he touches the frame of his shades. As though he's keeping a record of things.]

1. WHERE'S THE LAMB SAUCE???

[Interestingly enough, even if he made no effort to help with the preparations or with engaging in the activities, a man has got to eat.

And a man has got to eat something proper, so when he sniffs something burning in someone else's pan, he walks around the serving table and starts talking about how the heat is not measured enough and when dealing with uncontrolled temperatures, you have to use your wrist, see? What the fuck were you thinking??

Eventually, he does keep grumbling whilst talking about how to do a stir fry and looking over and taste testing what others are doing and "get me some coriander; this is the blandest thing I've ever eaten—"

Some more daring and amused members gather around for the show-cooking display, some snickering and calling Mamoru, 'yes, chef!' (only to have the swordsman roll his eyes), others looking a bit daunted at the final product (the plating is horrendous). After some bets are placed and a brave soul tries it, their eyes light up, and immediately hide the dish from the others when they realize it's good; it's actually really good ('What? Let me try!' 'No way! Wait for your own!' 'You owe me ten!' 'Ah, c'mon!').]

2. You can't sit with us.

[He's not an extrovert.

And his whole circadian rhythm is absolutely shot. It's no wonder, then, that you may find Mamoru just seemingly sleeping on a seat somewhere, arms crossed over his chest and stretched legs crossed at the ankles. He may be doing this outside, in some quieter (and weirdly enough, one with a vantage point) place, or in a tent.

If someone does go near to him and challenge him for a match (arm-wrestling and sparring, mostly), he'll wave a hand at them.] I don't do that kind of thing for show.

3. We should just stab Ceasar (cw. slight violence)

[Not that the sunbeams really work that well with him, anyway, considering. He's mostly quiet as he listens to what other people provide him, curious. Mamoru is, after all, someone who tends to stray towards learning the most he can, especially if it'll be helpful for him in the long run. The swordsman cants his head slightly at certain notes, certain sounds, even the energetic imagery that the power of meridian seems to translate into your very soul.

He understands why most people are fighting to have their worlds back.

He also understands why everyone is fighting, period.

Eventually, he strays from the bonfire, the shadows cast around him stark black, engulfing his rather imposing frame into almost nothingness, a barely there sillouette. (That too, is where he fits in like a glove).

He draws the bead from his pocket, opens his hand as it rests on his palm.

There's the sound of loud, rapid gunfire, the smell of burnt rubber, and the slick of blood slathered across a cheek. Shrieks, yells, shouts of 'that guy is a monster!', a stuttering whisper of 'kill me before it's too late'.

Mamoru closes his hand in a fist, efficiently silencing everything, the echoes of it reverberating into the woods before the bark mutes them.]

4. Wildcard

[HMU for anythiiiing, I'm easy peasy.]

[warmare]

No, it's fine. I don't need any time.

[As if she'd forgotten the sunbeam bead was still out, she looks down at it in her hands and then curls her fingers tighter, rubbing her thumb over the surface just once before she begins inserting it back where she kept it... which seems to be stuffed down between her breasts, winnowing it beneath the tight binding.]

Are people outside still sharing?

[She says "sharing" much in the same tone as another person might say "groping".]

ii... now in the right place

[bakedapple]

[ The hand clamped on Link's shoulder makes him jump. He too had been engrossed in the three-legged race, and how exactly he ought to go about trying to participate. There are a lot of people here, and it's been a bit much for him so far, but the contests — there's something about them that feels more approachable.

He hadn't thought that a partner would just fall into his lap. He looks up — as the small Hylian has to do with just about every person in both his old world and the new — at the unknown man who had literally reached out to him and pauses for a moment, trying to place his face. Nnnnnope, no idea. ]

Ah, excuse me... [ for lack of knowing what else to say. he frowns at the doleful look he's getting. ] Can I... help you...? Do you want to play?

i

[muchalucha]

[ Quetzalcoatl may be new to Kenos and Meridian, but right away, she stands out. She’s tall and, well, colorful, and she’d jumped into the tasks at hand without hesitation, if needing direction… But, by the time they get a little time to relax, she has a new task in mind. She wants to meet all of her fellow Meri, obviously.

So, even though he’s away from the rest of the group, Quetzalcoatl approaches him without any hesitation whatsoever. The gun isn’t anything she focuses on all that much (Servants are just as odd, so she’s not going to judge), but instead, it’s definitely the dirt. She puts her hands on her knees to brace herself as she leans over to try and see what he’s digging out, but there’s an easy smile on her face. ]

Mm, something good buried there?